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Thursday, May 29, 2008



That's short for Overdrive Bike Club - which my sons and their Our Gang-like group of friends have started.

The took old bike parts and hung them off or around the treehouse, which by the way is no longer a treehouse but a clubhouse. When I saw them gathering up broken bike parts the other day I asked them what they were doing.

"We're making a bike club," said my 8-year-old.
"Oh," I said.

"Well do you have bylaws?" I said.
"What are bylaws?" he asked.
"Rules. The Rules of the club that all must follow," I explained.
"Get me a piece of paper," he said.

The other night my wife had her assistant and her boyfriend over because she just graduated from college and the two are planning to move to Austin.

We took them (and our adult beverages) up into the clubhouse to show them what crafty little buggers my kids and their friends are and how encouraging it is - in this day and age - to see kids being kids building shit and using their imagination instead of squatting in front of the TV watching cartoons or playing video games (trust me, they do do that).

We must have been causing quite a racket up there because we woke up the kids and they both came out on the deck and started yelling at us.

"Hey, get out of there!" said my 5-year-old.
"That's our clubhouse!!!"

He was pissed.

And caused quite a racket himself, enough that his older bro came out and started in on us as well.

"What are you doing???" he screamed.

"Get out of there, it's for club members only!!!"

They were clearly not happy about all of this so we tried not to laugh and smirk too much in their faces and helped ourselves down from the treehouse, er, clubhouse.

I secretly want to buy them all jean jackets with back patches...
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If Only


They had signed their names in blood.
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5 Is The Magic Number


My youngest son turned 5 last weekend.

It seems like just yesterday he was in diapers.

Fuck, I'm lying... it seems like an eternity since he was in diapers.

A funny thing about children is that the old adage "they grow so quick" does ring true at times, but when you have spent every waking moment (more or less) with them for those past five years it can seem like an eternity.

One of the unplanned activities that broke out in the backyard amongst the kids was a kickball game, and my son Cole, being the man of the hour decided to break out the traditional Maori Haka war chant (click on header for explanation) before starting the game.

It's been something he'll break out on occasion ever since his big bro got Rugby 06 for his birthday back in March which is where he was exposed to this pre-game tradition from New Zealand's All Blacks.

It's fucking cute as all get out.

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